In his important and engaging book Legality,Footnote 1 Scott Shapiro seeks to provide the motivation for the development of his own elaborate account of law by undertaking a critique of H.L.A. Hart's jurisprudential theory. Hart maintained that every legal system is underlain by a Rule of Recognition through which the officials of the system identify the norms that belong to the system as laws. Shapiro argues that Hart's remarks on the Rule of Recognition are confused and that his model of law—though commendably more sophisticated than any model propounded by earlier legal positivists—is consequently untenable. Having thus endeavored to establish that Hart's exposition of the nature of legality is unsustainable, Shapiro contends that a new approach is vital for progress in the philosophy of law. With his lengthy presentation of his own Planning Theory of Law, he aspires to pioneer just such an approach.
Except for a very terse observation in the final main section, this article does not directly assess the strengths and shortcomings of Shapiro's piquant Planning Theory. Instead, I defend Hart against Shapiro's charges and thereby undermine the motivation for the development of the Planning Theory. Admittedly, while arguing that Hart's jurisprudential theory is broadly sound and that Shapiro's alternative is therefore superfluous, this article does not attempt to uphold every detail of Hart's ruminations on law. Having criticized Hart on a number of points elsewhere,Footnote 2 I am scarcely inclined to suggest here that his writings are entirely beyond reproach. Nonetheless, nearly all the objections to Hart's work posed by Shapiro are inapposite, or so this article aims to show.
In what follows, I do not take issue with everything in Shapiro's discussions of Hart that strikes me as doubtful. Nor do I take issue with any strands of his book—such as his espousal of Exclusive Legal Positivism in preference to Inclusive Legal PositivismFootnote 3—that do not pertain directly to his animadversions on the Hartian Rule of Recognition. This article concentrates not only on Shapiro's book but also on a recent essay of his concerning the Rule of Recognition.Footnote 4 Both his book and his essay seriously underestimate the resourcefulness of Hart's account of law, and both of them misrepresent many aspects of Hart's ideas.
I. A MATTER OF BELONGING
Quite early in Legality's chapter on Hart's model of law, Shapiro attributes to Hart the following conception of the Rule of Recognition:
It might be wondered, then, why Hart presents the rule of recognition as a test of legal validity when in reality it is a duty-imposing norm. The answer, I believe, is that, according to Hart, the law of a particular system consists of all the norms that legal participants of that system are under a duty to apply in their official capacities. In other words, the rule of recognition sets out the criteria of legal validity, and hence picks out the set of legal rules for a particular legal system, because the law of a particular system just is the set of rules that officials of a certain system are under a duty to apply, and the rule of recognition sets out the content of this duty.Footnote 5
Neither in his book nor in his essay does Shapiro cite any pages from Hart's writings in support of his attribution to Hart of the view summarized in this quotation. The absence of citations is not very surprising, because Shapiro's attribution is not borne out by any of Hart's statements. Hart in his remarks on the Rule of Recognition talked not about the set of rules which the officials of a certain system are under a duty to apply, but about the rules that belong to a system of governance as its laws. Of course, the officials are indeed duty-bound under their Rule of Recognition to apply those laws, but they can also be duty-bound to apply other norms (such as laws of other jurisdictions in conflict-of-law cases). Hence, although the Rule of Recognition does impose duties on officials, its distinctive and pivotal role is to pick out the norms that belong to a given legal system as the laws thereof.
Whereas no statements by Hart support the claim that he equated the laws of a system of governance with the norms which the system's officials are duty-bound to apply, numerous statements in his writings support my understanding of his position. Let us look briefly at a few of the relevant passages.
A. Hart's Own Words
At the outset of his opening discussion of the Rule of Recognition, Hart recounted its basic function:
The simplest form of remedy for the uncertainty of the regime of primary rules is the introduction of what we shall call a “rule of recognition.” This will specify some feature or features possession of which by a suggested rule is taken as a conclusive affirmative indication that it is a rule of the group to be supported by the social pressure it exerts. Footnote 6
Slightly later in that same discussion, Hart declared that even a very simple Rule of Recognition “brings with it many elements distinctive of law. By providing an authoritative mark it introduces, although in embryonic form, the idea of a legal system: for the rules are now not just a discrete unconnected set but are, in a simple way, unified.” Footnote 7
In chapter 6 of The Concept of Law, in which Hart focused principally on the Rule of Recognition, he maintained that the use of criteria “of recognition, by courts and others, in identifying particular rules of the system is characteristic of the internal point of view.”Footnote 8 In the next paragraph of that same chapter, Hart explicated the notion of legal validity in a passage that should be quoted at some length:
[T]he word “valid” is most frequently, though not always, used, in just such internal statements, applying to a particular rule of a legal system, an unstated but accepted rule of recognition. To say that a given rule is valid is to recognize it as passing all the tests provided by the rule of recognition and so as a rule of the system. We can indeed simply say that the statement that a particular rule is valid means that it satisfies all the criteria provided by the rule of recognition.Footnote 9
Hart went on to note that a duty-imposing norm can be valid as a law even if it is very widely flouted with impunity, unless “the rule of recognition of the system includes among its criteria, as some do, the provision (sometimes referred to as a rule of obsolescence) that no rule is to count as a rule of the system if it has long ceased to be efficacious.”Footnote 10 With his understanding of validity as the property of “count[ing] as a rule of the system,” Hart summarized the role of the Rule of Recognition: “The rule of recognition provid[es] the criteria by which the validity of other rules of the system is assessed.”Footnote 11 As he remarked a few pages later: “We only need the word ‘validity,’ and commonly only use it, to answer questions which arise within a system of rules where the status of a rule as a member of the system depends on its satisfying certain criteria provided by the rule of recognition.”Footnote 12 Again, he wrote that “in a mature legal system, we have a system of rules which includes a rule of recognition so that the status of a rule as a member of the system now depends on whether it satisfies certain criteria provided by the rule of recognition.”Footnote 13
These and other statements by Hart indicate that he regarded the Rule of Recognition as “the rule providing criteria for the identification of the other rules of the system.”Footnote 14 That is, Hart took the Rule of Recognition to be the array of ultimate standards by reference to which the officials of a legal system identify the norms that belong to the system as laws. Nowhere did he suggest that it is instead an array of standards that pick out all the norms which the officials of a legal system are duty-bound to invoke and apply. Having rebutted Shapiro's misrepresentation of Hart's model of the Rule of Recognition on this point, my present discussion has punctured one of the principal reasons adduced by Shapiro for rejecting that model.
B. Hart's Undeceivedness
Although the officials of a legal system are indeed duty-bound to invoke and apply the norms that belong to their system as laws, they are also duty-bound in some circumstances to invoke and apply other norms such as foreign laws. Hence, had Hart taken the view which Shapiro attributes to him, he would have been in error. As Shapiro proclaims:
For it can easily be shown that Hart's rule of recognition transforms the law into a vortex that sucks the rules of other normative systems into its voracious maw. As Joseph Raz argued, judges are often under an obligation to apply laws of other jurisdictions in conflict-of-law cases. In contract litigation involving a New York plaintiff and New Jersey defendant, a New York court may be required to apply the New Jersey Statute of Frauds. On Hart's treatment of the rule of recognition as a duty-imposing rule, however, the New Jersey law would automatically become incorporated into New York's law because judges would be under a legal obligation to apply it in certain cases. But this is clearly wrong: New York law does not annex New Jersey law simply because there are occasions when New York officials are required to apply the rules adopted by New Jersey officials.Footnote 15
Had Hart indeed posited a state of equivalence between the norms identified by the Rule of Recognition and the norms which legal officials are duty-bound to invoke and apply, he would have been guilty of the blunder for which Shapiro indicts him. In fact, however, he did not posit any such equivalence. Not a single statement in Hart's writings is vulnerable to Shapiro's indictment, whereas a myriad of statements bear out my claim that the function of the Rule of Recognition is to require and enable the identification of the norms that belong to a given legal system as its laws. (Note, incidentally, that the Rule of Recognition does not itself directly guide all instances of law-ascertainment. Some laws are directly ascertained by reference to other laws which in turn are directly ascertained either by reference to still deeper laws or by reference to the ultimate Rule of Recognition itself. Though all the norms directly identified by the Rule of Recognition in a legal system belong to the system as laws thereof, not all the norms that belong to the system as laws are directly identified by its Rule of Recognition.Footnote 16)
Another reason for rejecting Shapiro's criticism of Hart is that Hart himself, in an essay on the work of Hans Kelsen, displayed a sophisticated awareness of the fact that laws from other jurisdictions are not incorporated into a given legal system when they are invoked and applied there in conflict-of-law cases. Hart dwelt on that point—in opposition to Kelsen—over the course of several pages.Footnote 17 Though his essay on Kelsen was published somewhat after The Concept of Law, there is no reason to think that in his great book he was unattuned to a point on which he insisted lengthily a few years later (without the slightest indication that he himself had ever adopted any position that rendered him liable to his own criticism of Kelsen).
II. THE OVERARCHING UNITY OF THE RULE OF RECOGNITION
In his essay on the Rule of Recognition, Shapiro submits that Hart's account of law-ascertainment leads to the conclusion that each legal system contains a multiplicity of rules of recognition rather than a single overarching Rule of Recognition:
Hart does not explain what makes the rule of recognition a rule, as opposed to rules, of recognition. Why think that the rule that validates executive orders of the Governor is the same one that validates the regulations enacted by the New York State Legislature? Hart, it seems, is able to establish the content of the law only by helping himself to the oneness of the rule of recognition. But without establishing the unity of the New York rule of recognition, he cannot show why the Governor's orders ought to be included within the set of New York law. Indeed, on Hart's own theory of rule-individuation, according to which rules that guide different audiences ought to be considered separate rules, many of the provisions of a Hartian rule of recognition do not properly belong to the same rule. In any complex system, different officials will be under duties to apply different rules. When this is so, there will be multiple rules of recognition and hence the rules that they validate will not be part of the same legal system.Footnote 18
Attached to the final sentence of this passage is the following footnote:
At one point, Hart sought to establish the unity of the rule of recognition by claiming that any rule of recognition that sets out multiple criteria of legal validity will also contain a provision determining the order of precedence in cases of conflict. “The reason for still speaking of ‘a rule’ at this point is that, notwithstanding their multiplicity, these distinct criteria are unified by their hierarchical arrangement.” . . . I must confess to not understanding Hart's argument. Why is the mere fact that a rule ranks certain criteria sufficient to incorporate those criteria into the rule?Footnote 19
A. A Puzzling Footnote
Let us begin with Shapiro's footnote. His expression of puzzlement is itself puzzling, since Hart's argument is straightforward and convincing.Footnote 20 On the one hand, as Hart was aware, the phrase “Rule of Recognition” is misleading in some important respects. For example, as will become apparent later in this paper, the so-called Rule of Recognition is an array of power-conferring norms and duty-imposing norms rather than a single norm.Footnote 21 Moreover, as will also become apparent later, the officials who run a system of legal governance can differ with one another about some elements of the Rule of Recognition that underpins their system. Nevertheless, Hart's stated reason for using the phrase “rule of recognition” is clear and persuasive. Whether the hierarchization of the ultimate law-validating standards in a legal system ensues from prescriptions within those standards themselves or from the ordering introduced by supplementary rules of prioritization that are also comprised by the Rule of Recognition, it ties the standards together as a coherently interrelated set of directives. The integratedness which it bestows upon them is what justifies our designating those standards and their rankings as an overarching Rule of Recognition.
Although Hart's label is misleading in the respects already noted, it well captures the unity of a throng of law-ascertaining touchstones that stand in quite clear relationships of superiority and subordination to one another. (Of course, the order of priority among the law-validating standards need not be perfectly comprehensive. The unity of the Rule of Recognition in a particular legal system is consistent with a modicum of indeterminacy in the rankings among those standards.)
B. Differing Norms and Differing Addressees
Shapiro contends that Hart malgré lui committed himself to the proposition that every legal system comprises multiple rules of recognition addressed to differing sets of officials. This contention by Shapiro is neither novel nor correct. I have elsewhere replied at length to similar claims by Joseph Raz and John Finnis.Footnote 22 Though I will not reiterate here the whole of my rejoinder to those precursors of Shapiro's objection, the gist of the matter is as follows.
Notwithstanding that there is ample room for divergences on matters of detail among the sundry officials in any particular legal system, those officials adhere to a single Rule of Recognition. Their Rule of Recognition includes some standards that instruct subordinate officials to treat the law-ascertaining determinations of superior officials as binding. Lower-tier officials manifest their adherence to those standards by indeed treating such determinations as dispositive and by criticizing any lower-tier officials who do not conform to the upper-level determinations. Naturally, the officials in the uppermost echelon of the system manifest their acceptance of the deference-prescribing standards rather differently, since such officials are not subordinate to anyone else. Norms in their Rule of Recognition that call for deference to superior officials do not apply to them and therefore do not directly guide their own ascertainment of laws. Nevertheless, their acceptance of the deference-prescribing norms emerges in other ways. They are disposed to criticize any deviations from those norms by lower-ranking officials, and they are disposed to go further if the deviations are not rapidly corrected. Were the deviations to persist, the topmost officials would arrange suitable penalties for the contumacious subordinates.
Through their preparedness to engage in rebukes and (if necessary) in punitive measures, the officials at the top of a legal system's hierarchy join the lower-echelon officials in upholding a single Rule of Recognition. They do not themselves seek to comply with the deference-prescribing directives in that Rule of Recognition—since those directives are not applicable to them—but they are firmly inclined to ensure that those directives are heeded by their subordinates, to whom the directives are applicable. In that crucial respect, the upper-echelon officials are adhering to the same Rule of Recognition to which the compliant subordinate officials adhere. The overarching unity of their Rule of Recognition is comparable to that of a religious code of appropriate observances which includes some provisions that apply only to men and some provisions that apply only to women; everyone in a society can be upholding that one code even though its precise bearing on each person's behavior will differ between the sexes.
In sum, so long as we keep in mind that the deference-requiring prescriptions in a Rule of Recognition carry different implications for the officials in different strata of a legal system's hierarchy, we should encounter no difficulty in discerning the cohesiveness of the system that is undergirded by that Rule of Recognition. Those deference-requiring prescriptions directly guide some of the law-ascertaining determinations of officials in the lower strata. Pari passu, they directly guide some of the second-order determinations whereby the officials in the paramount stratum (and in the subordinate strata) gauge the correctness of the law-ascertaining decisions that have been reached by the lower-echelon officials.
Thus, although the deference-requiring portions of a Rule of Recognition impinge on the officials’ behavior in varying ways and to varying degrees, they impinge on every official's behavior to some extent. They constitute a common point of reference for the officials’ law-ascertaining endeavors—that is, they set standards toward which the officials orient themselves for varying purposes in those endeavors—just as do the other norms in a Rule of Recognition. Hence, while comprising those deference-ordaining provisions, a Rule of Recognition can perfectly well function as an integrated assemblage of touchstones that are presupposed and upheld by authoritative actions of the officials at every level.
III. THE RULE OF RECOGNITION AS A COMPLEX HYBRID
Like many other critics of Hart, Shapiro asserts that “the Hartian framework . . . famously acknowledges only two types of legal rules, namely, duty-imposing and power-conferring.”Footnote 23 Whereas Lon Fuller took the Rule of Recognition to be exclusively power-conferring, Raz and Neil MacCormick have taken it to be exclusively duty-imposing.Footnote 24 Shapiro sides with Raz and MacCormick:
Is it possible, then, to understand the rule of recognition as either a power-conferring [rule] or a duty-imposing rule? I think that the first option cannot be Hart's position. For if we suppose that the rule of recognition in Britain is “The Queen in Parliament has the power to create British law,” we inadvertently convert Britain's rule of recognition into its rule of change. Moreover, the rule of recognition can validate certain types of customs, and since customs need not be (and usually are not) created through the exercise of legal authority, the rule that validates them cannot be power-conferring. The only alternative, then, is to treat the rule of recognition as a duty-imposing rule. The rule of recognition, on this account, imposes a duty on officials to apply rules that bear certain characteristics.Footnote 25
A. Two Preliminary Points
Let us start with two preliminary points. First, it is not the case that power-conferring norms and duty-imposing norms are the only norm-types acknowledged as such in Hart's theory of law. Hart was a sophisticated reader of Wesley Hohfeld,Footnote 26 and he was therefore well aware of the existence of liberty-conferring laws and disability-imposing laws. In The Concept of Law, for example, he explicitly invoked Hohfeld while referring to the disability-imposing laws that restrict the legal powers of legislatures.Footnote 27
Second, although the Rule of Recognition does impose duties, the final sentence in this latest quotation from Shapiro again subtly misstates the nature of those duties. What the officials are duty-bound to do under their Rule of Recognition is to hold that norms endowed with certain characteristics belong to their system as binding laws that should be given effect.
B. A Complex Array
Duty-imposing though the Rule of Recognition is, it also confers powers. It is a complex array of duty-imposing norms and power-conferring norms. Let us first ponder this complex structure of the Rule of Recognition,Footnote 28 before we go on to assess Shapiro's contention that the Rule of Recognition is not power-conferring.
The duty-imposing character of the Rule of Recognition ties in directly with its power-conferring character. A legal system's Rule of Recognition lays obligations on the officials in the system to treat certain sources of laws as binding, and it bestows powers on the officials to engage in authoritative acts of law-identification that can fulfill those obligations. Whereas norms of adjudication empower officials to ascertain authoritatively whether any violations of the prevailing laws have occurred, the Rule of Recognition empowers them to ascertain authoritatively the existence and contents of the laws themselves. (Of course, a law-ascertaining determination is essential for any violation-detecting determination. Consequently, when the former takes place, it often is an element of the latter. Nonetheless, the two types of determinations can be distinguished analytically. Admittedly, distinguishing them in practice will in some contexts be tricky.) Precisely because the law-ascertaining endeavors of the officials are legally dispositive—that is, precisely because the officials legally bind citizens and other officials with their findings, and because they thereby alter people's legal positions—their engaging in those endeavors of law-ascertainment consists in their exercising of legal powers vested in them by their Rule of Recognition.
Were the Rule of Recognition not duty-imposing, the officials in a legal regime would be legally at liberty to identify any norms at all as the laws of their system. Were the Rule of Recognition not power-conferring, the officials would be unable to identify the law in a legally binding fashion and would thus be unable to carry out their duties as officials. They would not be able to undertake definitively the process of law-ascertainment which they are duty-bound to perform in accordance with the requirements which their Rule of Recognition imposes. In short, only the hybrid composition of each Rule of Recognition provides both the structured constrainingness and the dynamic operability of a legal system.
C. No Collapse into Rules of Change
Let us now scrutinize Shapiro's suggestion that the attribution of a power-conferring role to the Rule of Recognition is a conflation of the Rule of Recognition with rules of change. His suggestion mischaracterizes the way in which the Rule of Recognition is power-conferring. The correct formulation of the strand of the British Rule of Recognition concerning Parliamentary enactments is not “The Queen in Parliament has the power to create British law,” but instead, “Every legal-governmental official in the United Kingdom is authorized (as well as duty-bound) to hold that any norms enacted by Parliament as statutes are laws which belong as such to the United Kingdom's system of governance and which are therefore to be given effect by legal-governmental officials in the United Kingdom.”Footnote 29
Likewise, a somewhat simplified version of the strand in the English Rule of Recognition that pertains to customary laws is correctly formulated as follows: “Every legal-governmental official in England is authorized (as well as duty-bound) to hold that customary norms endowed with certain properties—such as longstandingness, reasonableness, and prevalent operativeness within this jurisdiction—are laws which belong as such to the English system of governance and which are therefore to be given effect by legal-governmental officials in England.”
As these formulations make clear, the powers directly conferred by the Rule of Recognition are powers of law-ascertainment rather than powers of law-alteration. In other words, once those powers are correctly encapsulated, we can see that Shapiro has erred in maintaining that the ascription of a power-conferring role to the Rule of Recognition would efface the distinction between two types of secondary norms.
IV. RULES AND REGULARITIES
Quite puzzlingly, Shapiro in Legality repeatedly accuses Hart of the category mistake of conflating social rules with the behavioral and attitudinal regularities of social practices. He first sounds this theme on the second page of his chapter about Hart, when he writes that “for Hart, social rules are social practices.”Footnote 30 He expands on this theme several pages later:
Hart tries to demystify the creation of social rules by reducing them to social practices. In other words, social practices generate rules because these rules are nothing but social practices. Thus, when men regularly take off their hats in sacred places because they take the internal point of view toward this sort of behavior, the behavioral regularity is itself a rule.Footnote 31
After repeating this characterization of Hart's account of rules a couple of further times, Shapiro points out the obvious erroneousness of any reduction of rules to regularities:
Social rules cannot be reduced to social practices because rules and practices belong to different metaphysical categories. Rules are abstract objects. They are like games, numbers, plots, propositions, and concepts—they are objects of thought, not entities that exist within space and time . . . . Practices, on the other hand, are concrete events. They take place within the natural world and causally interact with other physical events.Footnote 32
Shapiro is of course correct in declaring that rules cannot be reduced to the regularities of practices, but his ascription of a reductionist project to Hart is extraordinarily ungenerous. Once again, he provides no citations while insisting that Hart espoused a blunderingly mistaken view. We should not accept such an insistence in the absence of any strong evidence to support it.
On the one hand, despite the absence of any citations by Shapiro, there are some statements in The Concept of Law that might be seized upon by an overweeningly uncharitable reader as supportive of the accusations of a category mistake. For example, Hart wrote that “if a social rule is to exist[,] some at least must look upon the behaviour in question as a general standard to be followed by the group as a whole.” He likewise asserted: “How many of the group must . . . treat the regular mode of behaviour as a standard of criticism, and how often and for how long they must do so to warrant the statement that the group has a rule, are not definite matters.”Footnote 33 In a broadly similar vein, he declared that “to refer to the internal aspect of rules seen from [the] internal point of view” is “to bring into the account the way in which the group regards its own behaviour.”Footnote 34
On the other hand, for two main reasons, these quoted statements—and some other similar pronouncements by Hart—furnish no support for Shapiro's allegations that Hart committed a crude metaphysical blunder. First, both in philosophical discourse and in ordinary English, terms such as “standard” and “norm” are equivocal. Each of those terms can refer either (1) to an abstract normative entity toward which some practice is oriented, or (2) to the behavioral and attitudinal regularities that make up the practice. Hart plainly sometimes used the term “standard” in the latter sense, but there are no grounds whatsoever for the claim that he collapsed the former sense into the latter. Likewise, although he wrote both about the adoption of an internal perspective on rules and about the adoption of an internal perspective on the behavioral/attitudinal regularities that are oriented toward those rules, he nowhere suggested that the rules are nothing more than the regularities. Rather, he was simply reflecting a duality in ordinary ways of discussing normative attitudes. Quite unobjectionably and idiomatically, one can sometimes speak about the harboring of such attitudes toward the norms that are immanent in our practices, and one can at other times speak about the harboring of such attitudes toward the behavioral and attitudinal regularities of those practices. That duality in those idiomatic ways of discussing these matters will not strike anybody as muddled, unless one's interlocutor or reader is relentlessly determined to find confusion where there is none. Exactly because the regularities of a community's practices are so closely connected to the norms that guide and structure those regularities, either the norms or the regularities can aptly be regarded as the objects of normative attitudes. Likewise, we can properly speak either about deviations from the norms or about deviations from the regularities of the practices that embody those norms. To accept as much is hardly to commit the egregious error of presuming that the norms are nothing but the regularities. Despite all the italics in Shapiro's accusations, there is no sign that Hart committed that egregious error. (As should be evident, incidentally, I take social practices to be complexes of particulars and universals—namely, complexes of behavioral/attitudinal regularities and the norms immanent in those regularities. The relationship between a practice and its norms is constitutive and mereological.)
Second, far from committing the error just mentioned, Hart frequently evinced his awareness of the distinction between the regularities of social practices and the norms toward which those practices are oriented. For example, he adverted to “the regularities of observable behaviour in which conformity with the rules partly consists.”Footnote 35 Had Hart taken the position which Shapiro tries to foist upon him, he would not have referred here to conformity with the rules; he would instead have written about the regularities of behavior in which the rules themselves partly consist. Given that he did refer here to conformity with the rules, we can rightly infer that he did not take the rules to be reducible to the behavioral regularities and associated attitudes of which social practices are composed.
In a similar vein, Hart wrote that “[t]he social practices which underlie . . . legislative authority will be, in all essentials, the same as those which underlie the simple, direct rules of conduct, like that concerning baring the head in church.”Footnote 36 Instead of submitting that social rules simply are the regularities of social practices, Hart here correctly maintained that such rules are underlain by those regularities. Though The Concept of Law is not a treatise on metaphysics, Hart's firm grasp of the metaphysics of social rules is evidenced in pronouncements such as this quoted statement.
One further example will suffice. Hart declared that “our social group has . . . rules which, like that concerning baring the head in church, makes [sic] a specific kind of behaviour standard.”Footnote 37 Had Hart espoused the position which Shapiro imputes to him, he would not have written that the rules make certain patterns of behavior standard. Rather, he would have written that the rules are certain standard patterns of behavior. Once again, that is, we find in Hart's text a solid awareness of the distinction between social rules and the regularities of social practices.
In short, there is no basis for Shapiro's allegations that Hart muddled the distinction between rules as universals and behavioral/attitudinal regularities as particulars. Shapiro's allegations are so tendentious as to be baffling.
V. INDIVIDUALIZED REASONS AND SOCIAL NORMS
Shapiro asserts that Hart “might admit that social rules are not reducible to social practices, but claim that social practices necessarily generate social rules in their wake.” He retorts: “The problem with this version of [Hart's theory] is that the metaphysical relation it claims exists simply does not obtain: social practices do not necessarily generate social rules.”Footnote 38 Shapiro's mistake here is subtle but far-reaching.
A. The Wrong Conditional
Shapiro in effect maintains that Hart might be drawn toward the conditional proposition “If there is a social practice at some time t in some community C, then there are some social rules in C at t.” In fact, the conditionality should run in the opposite direction: “If there are some social rules in C at t, then there is at least one social practice in C at t.” That is, pace Shapiro, Hart should not have been drawn toward the claim that the existence of a social practice entails the existence of social rules. He should instead have been drawn, and was indeed drawn, toward the claim that the existence of social rules presupposes the existence of social practices. I shall henceforth designate the former claim as the Entailments of Practices Conditional and the latter claim as the Presuppositions of Rules Conditional.
Why should Hart be drawn toward the Presuppositions of Rules Conditional rather than toward the Entailments of Practices Conditional? As Shapiro maintains, one of the problems that must be addressed by any philosophical theory of law (at least implicitly, if not explicitly) is what he designates as the “Possibility Puzzle.”Footnote 39 He perceives that puzzle as a classic chicken-and-egg problem, which he formulates as follows:
Egg: Some body has power to create legal norms only if an existing norm confers that power.
Chicken: A norm conferring power to create legal norms exists only if some body with power to do so created it.Footnote 40
As Shapiro indicates, Hart in effect resolved the Possibility Puzzle “by rejecting the Chicken Principle. . . . And by rejecting the Chicken Principle, Hart stops the infinite regress: while legal authority must always be conferred by norms, legal norms may [ab initio] be created without authority.”Footnote 41
When Shapiro characterizes Hart's rejection of the Chicken Principle, he usually implies that Hart embraced the Entailments of Practices Conditional. For instance, he attributes to Hart the following view: “To create a social rule, those involved need not be authorities; rather, they need only engage in a social practice.”Footnote 42 Occasionally, however, Shapiro instead ascribes to Hart the Presuppositions of Rules Conditional: “Hart's solution to the Possibility Puzzle is a scrupulously positivistic one. Legal systems, on his view, are necessarily founded on social practices.”Footnote 43 This latter ascription is correct, for the task of establishing the possibility of the existence of legal norms requires a theorist to delineate the presuppositions of their existence. In so doing, Hart of course had to maintain that social practices which generate social norms (such as the Rule of Recognition) are possible. He did not have to contend—and wisely did not contend—that all social practices generate social norms.
B. Norm-Guided Behavior versus Habitual Behavior
Of course, to address the Possibility Puzzle satisfactorily and thereby propound a full-blown theory of law, Hart had to specify in some detail the distinction between social practices that generate norms and social practices that do not. Shapiro is correct to state as much.Footnote 44 What is remarkable, however, is any suggestion that Hart did not draw just such a distinction. He in fact devoted many pages of The Concept of Law to differentiating between rule-guided behavior and merely habitual behavior.Footnote 45 Merely habitual social practices do not give rise to social norms, whereas social practices marked by the widespread adoption of a critical reflective attitude among the participants in the practices do give rise to social norms.
Shapiro is of course aware of the pages in The Concept of Law to which I have just referred, but he believes that Hart's distinction is untenable. More specifically, he believes that some social practices marked by the widespread adoption of a critical reflective attitude among the participants do not give rise to any social norms. He begins his argument on this point by adducing a sporting example that was originally propounded by Geoffrey Warnock and later by Raz.Footnote 46 However, because I have rebutted that example elsewhere at some length,Footnote 47 and because Shapiro adds nothing to it that would shield it from my rebuttal, I will move straightaway to his own examples.
A lengthy quotation is warranted here:
In fact, many (if not most) of our social practices [marked by a critical reflective attitude among the participants] fail to generate social rules. Among the professional class in the United States, for example, it is now generally accepted that people ought not to smoke even when no one else is affected. Smokers are routinely criticized by nonsmokers. Smoking, they say, is “stupid,” is a “dirty habit,” and sets a “bad example.” Moreover, these nonsmokers are not criticized by other nonsmokers for engaging in such criticism. Yet there is no social rule against smoking alone or with other smokers. Members of this group simply believe that there are excellent reasons not to smoke, reasons that exist independently of the practice and which the practice is supposed to promote. Similarly, there are no social rules requiring that people save for their retirements, that acquaintances say hello to one another, that drivers lock their cars at night, and that people comb their hair, despite the fact that nearly everyone accepts these practices from the internal point of view.Footnote 48
From his armchair, Shapiro makes some large empirical claims in this passage. Let us grant that his armchair sociology is accurate and that individuals in the professional class in the United States act as officiously or discourteously toward one another as he suggests. What will be contested here is his philosophical interpretation of those empirical claims.
1. The Example of Smoking
Shapiro's description of the situation in the United States with regard to smoking is somewhat equivocal. If a social norm against smoking in the absence of any nonsmokers (as well as in the presence of nonsmokers, of course) prevails among professional people in the United States, then all three elements of the Hartian critical reflective attitude have to be widely operative. That is, (1) most professional people do not smoke even in the absence of any nonsmokers; (2) most professional people criticize other professional people who smoke, on the ground that they are deviating from a shared standard of behavior to which they are urged to conform; and (3) most professional people accept that the criticism and the pressure for conformity to the shared standard are appropriate responses to deviations from that standard. Let us suppose that the first of these elements of the critical reflective attitude is indeed present in the contemporary United States. What about the second element?
According to Shapiro, criticism of smokers among American professionals is focused on three main properties of the habit of smoking: its stupidity, its dirtiness, and its tendency to set a bad example. The first two of these three lines of criticism appear to be directed not against deviations from a shared standard but instead against individualized imprudence. Though everyone has a prudential interest in his or her own abstention from smoking, nobody has such an interest in anyone else's abstention (if we leave aside the interests of dependents and the interests of passive or second-hand inhalers of smoke, which seem to lie outside the scope of the criticism recounted by Shapiro). Consequently, the negative remarks by professionals about the stupidity and dirtiness of a smoker's habit pertain solely to the smoker's foolishness in neglecting her own interests, rather than to any departures by the smoker from some shared standard in which everyone has a stake.
Heretofore, then, Shapiro appears to be correct in submitting that there is no antismoking social norm among contemporary American professionals. However, he appears to be correct on that point precisely because the second element of the Hartian critical reflective attitude appears heretofore to be missing. In other words, with regard to the remonstrations that are focused on the stupidity and dirtiness of smoking, Shapiro's denial of the existence of any social norms is entirely consistent with Hart's analysis of social norms.
When we come to the third objectionable property of smoking—its tendency to set a bad example—things are rather different. Here the criticism of smokers by nonsmokers does appear to be oriented toward a shared standard from which the smokers are taken to be deviating. We need not pin down here whether that standard should be understood as a concrete norm against setting a bad example by smoking or instead as a more general norm against setting a bad example in one's everyday behavior. The point is that objections which concentrate on one's setting of a bad example are not adverting to individualized imprudence. Rather, they are adverting to one's departure from a shared standard concerning one's responsibilities to other people.
Hence, when we look at the third line of criticism mentioned by Shapiro, we find that he is incorrect in contending that no relevant social norm obtains. His stance is inconsistent with the stance that would be taken by Hart on the matter, but the inconsistency arises because Hart would be led by his analysis of social norms toward a correct position rather than toward Shapiro's mistaken position.
2. Shapiro's Other Examples
Three of Shapiro's four other examples—saving for one's retirement, locking the doors of one's car at night, and combing one's hair—appear to involve individualized imprudence rather than departures from a shared standard.Footnote 49 Given as much, no social norm is being invoked when someone is criticized for failing to save for her retirement, failing to lock the doors of her car at night, or not combing her hair. However, the absence of a social norm is fully consistent with Hart's analysis of social norms, because the second element of the critical reflective attitude is not operative when the target of people's criticism is individualized imprudence. In such circumstances, the criticism does not assert or imply that the imprudent person has deviated from a shared standard of conduct to the detriment of others.
The one remaining example in Shapiro's list is that of greetings between acquaintances. That example does appear to involve a social norm, since the matter at issue pertains to the basic civility that is owed by friends or colleagues to one another. When someone is reproached for failing to say “hello” in a context where such a greeting would be expected as an elementary courtesy, the reproach is directed at her deviation from a shared standard that prescribes how people should interact with one another. Given that most people in the society accept the appropriateness of such a reproach, all three elements of the critical reflective attitude are present. Hence, a social norm is being invoked. Shapiro errs in trying to assimilate this example to his other examples.
Of course, if someone persistently declines to greet acquaintances, they might nonetheless forbear from upbraiding him. Perhaps they believe him to be autistic and therefore beyond the reach of the relevant social norm, or perhaps they believe that he is incorrigibly boorish and that expostulating with him about quite a minor matter of social etiquette would thus be pointless and frustrating. A social norm that requires greetings between acquaintances would continue to obtain in such circumstances, since most people would continue to be disposed to uphold that norm as a shared standard of conduct in most contexts. They might stoically acquiesce in the lapses of the inveterate boor, but they will be disposed to object to other significant lapses.
In the situation recounted by Shapiro, people are disposed to censure deviations from the practice of greeting acquaintances. Shapiro explicitly states (in the long passage quoted above) that “everyone accepts these practices [including the practice of greeting acquaintances] from the internal point of view.” Given that everyone adopts the internal point of view vis-à-vis the practice of greeting acquaintances, everyone exhibits all three elements of the critical reflective attitude in relation to that practice. Hence, everyone is disposed to censure deviations from the norms of that practice and to do so because such deviations are perceived as departures from a shared standard or set of standards. Shapiro apparently believes that the censure is instead addressed to instances of individualized imprudence; however, such a view of the matter is quite implausible. When requirements of elementary civility are the point of reference for criticism of people's conduct, the criticism is invoking social norms rather than merely considerations of individualized imprudence.
VI. SIMULATIVE STATEMENTS VERSUS INTERNAL STATEMENTS
Shapiro thinks that Hart's theory not only fails to solve the Possibility Puzzle but also violates Hume's Law: namely, the principle that there is no valid argument in which all the premises are nonnormative (and logically consistent) and in which the conclusion is a substantive normative proposition.Footnote 50 The problem here, as Shapiro presents it, derives from Hart's contention that the endeavors through which the officials in any jurisdiction ascertain the existence and contents of laws are norm-generating social practices. How does each official derive normative conclusions from nonnormative facts about other officials’ conduct and attitudes? As Shapiro suggests, Hart maintained that each official derives such conclusions by adopting the internal point of view—the critical reflective attitude—toward the other officials’ practices. Shapiro recounts Hart's position as follows:
Thus, one may take the internal point of view toward the social practice of rule recognition and, in so doing, treat it as a standard for guidance and evaluation. The normative judgments that are formed through this practical engagement with social practice can then be used to derive other normative judgments about legal rights, obligations, and validity. Legal reasoning in a positivistic framework does not, therefore, violate Hume's Law, insofar as legal judgments are derived only from other, similarly normative judgments.Footnote 51
Shapiro insists that Hart did not succeed in escaping from contraventions of Hume's Law, because people can reason about the law and reach legal conclusions even if they have not adopted the internal perspective toward the practices of law-ascertainment in their jurisdiction. They can derive normative inferences about the law while occupying an uncommitted perspective. Shapiro writes:
The [uncommitted observer] not only can talk the talk; he can think the thought. He too can “think like a lawyer.” Legal reasoning, we might say, is a remarkably open process. Even those who judge the law morally illegitimate, or reject it for self-interested reasons, can figure out what the law demands of them. Indeed, it would be bizarre if the only people who could understand the law were those who accepted it. The law claims the right to demand compliance from everyone, even those who reject its demands.Footnote 52
According to Shapiro, Hart was unable to explain how an uncommitted observer could manage in this fashion to draw normative conclusions from the nonnormative facts of officials’ conduct and attitudes. The uncommitted observer does not ascribe normative force to the conduct and attitudes, but is able to arrive at conclusions about legal norms and obligations. Hart could not credibly deny that the drawing of such conclusions by such an observer is possible, yet within the confines of his theory the drawing of such conclusions by such an observer is a contravention of Hume's Law. So Shapiro contends.
Shapiro is aware that Hart himself in his later work invoked a distinction with which he was able to explain why an uncommitted observer can reach conclusions about legal norms and obligations. That is, Hart invoked Raz's distinction between committed statements and detached statements.Footnote 53 (Because I have elsewhere reelaborated and slightly modified Raz's distinction in terms of internal statements versus simulative statements,Footnote 54 I shall henceforth use the latter pair of phrases except when I am directly referring to Raz's writings.)
Someone who occupies the simulative perspective does not merely attribute normative beliefs to officials and some citizens; in addition, he articulates such beliefs as if they were his own. He speaks or writes as if from an internal point of view without actually occupying that point of view. To some degree, a person engaged in simulation is quite closely akin to a theatrical actor who recites lines in a play. If an actor plays Iago in a production of Othello, for example, he will recite Iago's lines and generally do his best to convey Iago's thoughts and emotions—his point of view—to the audience. However, even a superb performance of the role does not perforce count at all as an endorsement of Iago's villainy. When a skillful actor strives to fathom Iago's outlook and thereby manages to deliver a splendid performance, he nonetheless might disapprove strongly (and very likely does disapprove strongly) of the vile sentiments that he is feigning to express.
Yet, in a crucial respect, the analogy between the theatrical actor's performance and the simulative speaker's discourse breaks down. Though some productions of plays require or permit the improvisation of numerous lines, most do not; a production typically involves the recitation of lines that have been written beforehand by a playwright. In any normal staging of Othello, for example, the man who plays Iago will recite some or all of the lines that were written for that character by Shakespeare. He will add few or no lines himself. By contrast, the speaker or writer who adopts a simulative perspective will frequently elaborate the implications of the set of beliefs which he is articulating. He may well draw inferences or develop arguments or undertake extrapolations that have not thitherto occurred to anyone else. Furthermore, even when his discourse is a straightforward recapitulation of thoughts and sentiments that have previously been expressed by other people, he typically does not simply repeat lines verbatim that have already been written.
In sum, a simulative utterance is both illuminatingly similar to a thespian performance and importantly different from it. Each of those two modes of communication consists in giving voice to a point of view that is not one's own, but—even if we allow for the creativity and ingenuity that are involved in a deft theatrical performance—a simulative perspective leaves much more latitude for innovation than does the recitation of lines.
By adverting to the as-if role of the simulative perspective, Hart could account for the ability of an uncommitted observer to articulate normative conclusions about the law in this or that jurisdiction. To attack Hart, then, Shapiro assails Raz's distinction between committed statements and detached statements. He presents his summary and critique of that distinction as follows:
According to Raz, committed and detached statements express the same normative proposition but have different truth conditions. Committed statements have normative truth conditions, whereas detached statements have exclusively descriptive truth conditions. . . . Hart seized on Raz's theory of normative statements and argued that the bad man can describe the law in normative terms and engage in legal reasoning because legal statements can be detached. Thus, when the [uncommitted observer] ascribes legal validity to a rule, he is not expressing his acceptance of the rule of recognition, but rather the point of view of those who accept the rule of recognition. This detached statement is true just in case there is judicial acceptance of a rule of recognition that validates the rule in question, regardless of whether the utterer accepts that rule of recognition himself.
Unfortunately, Raz's distinction between committed and detached statements is a mysterious one. . . . [T]he distinction presupposes an unorthodox semantic theory. According to Raz, both committed and detached statements express the same proposition but have different truth conditions. The usual semantic assumption is that propositions are individuated according to their truth conditions.Footnote 55
Shapiro's contentions are not reconcilable either with the natural way of understanding Raz's distinction or with most of what Raz himself says about that distinction. The committed/detached dichotomy is naturally understood (by a philosopher) as a matter of pragmatics rather than as a matter of semantics. That is, it is naturally understood as a difference between the purposes for which people utter various statements rather than as a difference between the meanings which people's statements bear. Given that Raz's dichotomy is a difference of the former sort rather than of the latter, it does not pertain to any distinction between truth-conditions. If the content of a simulative utterance is the same as that of an internal utterance, then the truth-conditions for the utterances are likewise the same.
This natural understanding of Raz's dichotomy is borne out by his own most straightforward discussion of the matter. Contrary to what Shapiro asserts, Raz in The Concept of a Legal System makes clear that the truth-conditions for a detached statement that bears the content C are the same as the truth-conditions for a committed statement that bears the content C. Raz declares:
[A] detached statement normally made by the use of a certain sentence is true if and only if the committed statement normally made by the use of the same sentence is true—given the non-normative facts of this world—if all the ultimate rules of the legal system referred to are binding and if there are no other binding normative considerations.Footnote 56
Quite bewildering, in light of this quotation, is Shapiro's assertion (in the long passage excerpted above) that Raz maintains that “detached statements have exclusively descriptive truth conditions.”
In sum, the simulative/internal distinction—the distinction that would enable Hart to avoid any contraventions of Hume's Law—is a matter of pragmatics rather than a matter of semantics. If a sentence S is uttered simulatively, the truth-conditions for that simulative statement are the same as the truth-conditions for an internal statement that consists in the utterance of S. (Indeed, this point falls out of the minimalist account of truth which I have advocated elsewhere.Footnote 57) Hence, pace Shapiro, there is nothing mysterious about the simulative/internal dichotomy. That dichotomy is available to be invoked pertinently by anyone who seeks to defend Hart against Shapiro's onslaughts.
VII. THE NATURE OF LEGAL CONCEPTS
In opposition to Raz, Hart contended that the concepts of obligation and authority in legal contexts are not equivalent to those concepts in moral contexts. Shapiro, in agreement with Raz, insists that Hart's position on that matter is untenable: “Hart's attempt at preserving the distinction between legal and moral thought stakes out a middle ground that is unstable and unsupportable. For once it is admitted that legal concepts are normative, it becomes difficult to deny, as Hart did, that they are moral as well.”Footnote 58 Having elsewhere lengthily defended Hart's general position against Raz,Footnote 59 I will here much more briefly redefend that general position. In so doing, however, I will not endorse Hart's own way of arguing for his stance. As my previous discussion of this matter makes clear,Footnote 60 Hart's attempt to vindicate his position through a strange analysis of the deontic auxiliary “ought” is to be discountenanced. Raz and Shapiro are right to take exception to Hart's analysis. Nonetheless, although Hart did not argue very adeptly in favor of his claims about the nature of basic legal concepts, those claims are correct.
A. A Conflation of Two Dimensions of Morality
In Legality, the main complaint by Shapiro is that Hart's position implies that the authoritative pronouncements of adjudicative and administrative officials are amoral in character. Shapiro retorts:
The claims of law are far too serious to accept the possibility that they are amoral in nature. . . . For once we focus on the role that legal judgments and claims play in social life, it becomes hard to deny that they are constituted not only by normative concepts and terms, but by moral ones as well.Footnote 61
Shapiro's chief argument in support of his retort should be quoted in full:
But once we recognize the social role that legal concepts are typically made to play, it becomes hard to resist the conclusion that these concepts must be moral as well. For concepts such as authority and obligation are characteristically employed in contexts where moral notions are uniquely apt, namely, where the conduct being guided and evaluated is contrary to our self-interest, requires considerable sacrifice, significantly affects the lives of others, and subjects the actor to punishment and censure for failure to comply. Thus, claims of legal authority and obligation are not merely used to guide conduct; they are used to make demands that materially constrain freedom. They are not used simply to assess behavior; they are employed to assess guilt, blame the guilty, and ground coercive and punitive responses. In other words, we are not talking here about demands to go to jail in Monopoly, stand up when an elder enters the room, or avoid splitting infinitives. In legal contexts, we require people to pay their taxes, join the army, pass difficult licensing exams before practicing a profession, and testify in a criminal trial, under the threat of jail or heavy fines. Only moral concepts have the heft to make such serious claims.Footnote 62
Shapiro here conflates two distinctions that I have elsewhere sought to disentangle: the distinction between morality and prudence, and the distinction between the moral and the nonmoral.Footnote 63 Very roughly, the former contrast is between (1) reasons-for-action that are focused primarily or exclusively on the interests of other people rather than primarily or exclusively on one's own interests and (2) reasons-for-action that are focused primarily or exclusively on one's own interests rather than primarily or exclusively on the interests of other people. The moral/nonmoral contrast is quite different. It distinguishes between (3) phenomena that are appropriately subject to moral assessment and (4) phenomena that are not appropriately subject to moral assessment. This moral/nonmoral contrast can be further explicated in part as a distinction between (3a) actions or decisions that bear nontrivially on the interests of other people and (4a) actions or decisions that do not bear more than trivially on the interests of other people.
When morality is differentiated from nonmoral phenomena along the lines just indicated, it is evident that the actions and decisions undertaken by legal-governmental officials fall on the moral side of the divide. Nobody could sensibly think otherwise. As Shapiro emphasizes in the long passage just quoted, legal requirements and judgments impinge very heavily on the interests of the myriad people who are affected by them. Manifestly, such requirements and judgments are appropriately open to moral assessment. Hence, if anyone is faced with the question whether legal concepts are moral or nonmoral, the only tenable answer is that they are moral.
However, that question is not the question which Hart was addressing when he impugned Raz's insistence that the concept of obligation is the same in law as in morality. Hart was focusing on the moral/prudential dichotomy rather than on the moral/nonmoral dichotomy. He was maintaining that the normativity of the public interaction among adjudicators and administrators in a given regime can credibly be prudential rather than moral. The reasons-for-action implicitly or explicitly adduced by the officials in their exchanges with one another can credibly be centered on their shared interests in sustaining an oppressive system of governance. Moreover, the pronouncements of the officials in their interactions with ordinary citizens can credibly be imperative rather than truly prescriptive; that is, the officials can be issuing orders to the citizens instead of presenting them with any punishment-independent reasons for conformity to the law.
So Hart maintained, and so I have elsewhere contended at length in support of his position. His stance on this matter has nothing to do with the misguided view that the concept of obligations invoked by legal-governmental officials is somehow nonmoral (or “amoral”). On the contrary, Hart fully recognized that any invocation of that concept by such officials is pertinently open to moral appraisal. Instead of ever absurdly suggesting otherwise, Hart simply held that the officials need not be invoking or purporting to invoke nonprudential reasons for conformity to the law when they give effect to legal obligations in their interaction with citizens. They can be asserting sheer imperatives. In so doing, of course, they render themselves susceptible to moral condemnation.
B. An Alternative Conception of Legal Obligations
If the concept of legal obligations is not equivalent to the concept of moral obligations, how are legal obligations to be understood? I have answered that question in detail in the fourth chapter of my 1999 book In Defense of Legal Positivism. Here the pithiest sketch of an answer will have to suffice.
Legal obligations are the requirements imposed by any legal norms that render certain courses of conduct mandatory. If I am under a legal duty to do X in circumstances C, I will be conducting myself in violation of some legal norm(s) if I do not do X in circumstances C. By failing or refusing to comply with what is required of me under the terms of some legal norm(s), I commit a legal wrong; I contravene the terms of the norm(s) by acting at odds with what those terms render mandatory. This straightforward explication of the notion of legal duties does not assert or presuppose that every legal duty is a moral duty, nor does it presuppose or assert that every legal duty is implicitly or explicitly presented as a moral duty in the authoritative utterances of legal officials.
Shapiro himself as a legal positivist is keen to deny that every legal duty is a moral duty, of course. However, like Raz, he maintains that every legal duty is implicitly or explicitly presented as a moral duty in the authoritative utterances of officials. As he declares, “from the legal point of view the law's activities [give rise to obligatory moral reasons for compliance with legal mandates].”Footnote 64 Whether or not any of the officials in a legal system sincerely believe that the requirements imposed by the system are morally binding upon citizens, their authoritative pronouncements concerning the effectuation of those requirements presuppose or assert just such bindingness. So Raz and Shapiro contend.
My account of legal obligations, laconically summarized in the penultimate paragraph above, is squarely at odds with Raz's and Shapiro's contentions. It of course allows that the authoritative obligation-enforcing pronouncements of officials in countless legal-governmental systems (including many evil legal-governmental systems) do assert or presuppose the moral bindingness of the obligations that are being enforced, but it leaves room for other legal-governmental systems in which such pronouncements are sheer imperatives rather than prescriptions. In systems of the latter sort, the normativity of the discourses that take place among adjudicative and administrative officials in their public roles is prudential rather than moral.
Though I cannot here repeat the several long arguments from In Defense of Legal Positivism in support of my account of legal obligations, what should be reemphasized is that the points of contention between Hart and Raz are not centered at all on the moral/nonmoral dichotomy. Neither Hart nor any other competent legal philosopher has failed to recognize that, insofar as “moral” is contrasted with “nonmoral” (or “amoral”), law is inherently a moral phenomenon. Insofar as “moral” is contrasted with “nonmoral,” legal concepts are inherently moral. Everybody recognizes as much.
Instead of being focused on the moral/nonmoral division, the Hartian challenge to Raz is focused on the moral/prudential division. Is every legal system such that the reasons for conformity to the law explicitly or implicitly invoked by officials in the course of giving effect to legal mandates are moral, or can there credibly be a legal system in which the reasons for conformity to the law invoked by officials in the course of giving effect to such mandates are punishment-focused prudential reasons (and in which the mandates themselves are therefore correctly construable as imperatives rather than as prescriptions)? While maintaining that a legal system of the latter type is indeed credibly possible, Hart and his defenders have hardly maintained that the operations of such a system are nonmoral.
VIII. DISAGREEMENT OVER THE RULE OF RECOGNITION
In his determination to undermine Hart's model of the Rule of Recognition, Shapiro joins forces with Dworkin:
[A]s Ronald Dworkin has famously argued, [Hart's] account of the criteria of legal validity is seriously flawed. For if it were correct, widespread disagreements about such criteria would be highly problematic. Since the criteria of legality are supposedly fixed by consensus, any pervasive disagreement about their content would indicate the absence of consensus, and hence the absence of a fact of the matter over which disagreement could be had.Footnote 65
Like Dworkin, Shapiro contends that disagreements over the criteria of legal validity are pervasive. He refers to “the prevalence of disagreements about the criteria of legality,” and to “pervasive, well-known and sincere disagreements about the ultimate criteria of legal validity.”Footnote 66 He reiterates his endorsement of Dworkin's critique of Hart:
As Dworkin pointed out, widespread disagreements about the content of the rule of recognition are inconsistent with the consensus that supposedly generates its content. Thus, if legal participants are neither hopelessly confused about legal practice nor opportunistic liars, the criteria of legal validity cannot be determined by judicial agreement about those very criteria.Footnote 67
This final main section of my article will first criticize an instance of hyperbolic distortion in Shapiro's characterization of Hart's position. It will next submit that, under Hart's model of the Rule of Recognition, standards for legal validity can exist even though there is widespread disagreement about them. It will then very briefly query Shapiro's response to Dworkin's critique. Finally, it will present my own (largely Hartian) responses to Dworkin's critique.
A. An Instance of Hyperbole
Occasionally, Shapiro indulges in distortive hyperbole when delineating Hart's account of the Rule of Recognition. Most notably, he contrasts his own Planning Theory with Hart's account along the following lines: “Like Hart's rule of recognition, this [planning] norm is always at least partially constituted by official convergence on certain standards of conduct; but in contrast to Hart's account, total convergence is not necessary.”Footnote 68
This claim about total convergence is not borne out by anything in Hart's writings and is squarely at odds with what Hart stated in Chapters 6 and 7 of The Concept of Law and elsewhere. Moreover, it is not readily reconcilable with what Shapiro himself affirms when he is outlining Hart's theory of law:
On Hart's theory, the rules of recognition, change, and adjudication derive their content solely from consensus. The rule of recognition in the United States, for example, validates rules enacted by Congress and signed by the President that regulate interstate commerce because most judges/officials take the internal point of view toward such a test.Footnote 69
As is indicated by Shapiro's use of the plurative quantifier “most,” total convergence is not necessary for fixing the content of a criterion of legal validity in the Rule of Recognition.
B. Criteria in the Presence of Disagreement
Hart was an Inclusive Legal Positivist, and he therefore accepted that a Rule of Recognition can deem various correct principles of morality to be standards for legal validity; under an Inclusive Rule of Recognition, consistency with each such principle is a necessary condition for legal validity. If a Rule of Recognition is genuinely Inclusive, then the referential intentions of the officials are such that the principles which they have embraced as criteria of legal validity are correct principles of morality rather than the principles which the officials believe to be correct principles of morality.Footnote 70 (Obviously, those two sets of principles can coincide. Typically they will at least overlap.) Given as much, correct principles of morality are validative criteria of legality in the relevant jurisdiction even though the officials may well disagree frequently with one another in identifying those principles. It is therefore not always the case that, within Hart's model of the Rule of Recognition, the absence of a broad consensus on certain criteria of legal validity is inconsistent with the existence of those criteria as such.
C. A Query about Shapiro's Response to Dworkin
When seeking to come to grips with Dworkin's critique of positivism, Shapiro assures his readers that his own Planning Theory resolves the difficulties that supposedly bedevil Hart's account of the Rule of Recognition:
The planning theory . . . does not privilege the views of the system's original constitutional designers. Because legal systems always contain mechanisms for revision, the constitutional designers change as the structure of the system changes. The designers of the present American system include not only the Framers and ratifiers of the Constitution of 1787, but also the numerous agents that have changed the complexion of the system over the past two hundred years. Moreover, the constitutional designers who are relevant for determining interpretive methodology are those singled out by the present consensus in the legal community. This present consensus determines which past consensus to heed. The idea, once again, is that it is irrational for a group to treat a set of agents as designers whose role is to resolve second-order uncertainty, and at the same time not to privilege their attitudes about appropriate goals, values, and trust when trying to figure out how to interpret their instructions.Footnote 71
In two respects, this quoted passage is dubious.
First, having highlighted the quarrels among jurists over matters of interpretive methodology, Shapiro then helps himself to the assumption that there is a present consensus on the question of whose attitudes (concerning goals, values, and trust) are determinative of interpretive methodology. Such an assumption is fanciful. Second, the passage just quoted is not easily reconciled with what Shapiro says in the very next paragraph of his essay: “The advantages of the planning theory, I believe, are considerable. Chief among them is that, insofar as official consensus is not necessary for the determination of interpretive methodology, the planning theory is able to account for the possibility of disagreements about the ultimate criteria of validity.”Footnote 72 Though this second quoted passage is consistent with the claim that a consensus on matters of interpretive methodology is not necessary for the existence of criteria of legal validity, Shapiro has maintained in the first of these two quoted passages that what is indeed necessary is a consensus on the identity of the group whose attitudes are determinative of interpretive methodology. Untenable, then, is the second passage's sweeping assertion that—according to Shapiro's Planning Theory—“official consensus is not necessary for the determination of interpretive methodology.”
D. A Broadly Hartian Response to Dworkin
A Hartian response to Dworkin should begin by mentioning a point which I have substantiated at length elsewhere: namely, the fact that Dworkin himself acknowledges that any viable legal system must partake of a substantial degree of settledness and regularity.Footnote 73 He is well advised to acknowledge as much, since his account of law would otherwise be fanciful. If in a certain country the implications of a very large proportion of the norms promulgated by the prevailing system of governance are indeterminate not only in controversial appellate cases but also in the system's everyday workings, then no full-fledged legal regime exists within that country. Though any jural regime is bound to include a number of aspects that are unsettled or open-ended, the sheer operativeness of any such regime as a jural system presupposes a considerable measure of predictability and routineness. If intractable controversy is typical rather than exceptional—that is, if the normative consequences of people's multitudinous actions under the ostensible laws of their country are ordinarily (rather than occasionally) “up in the air” and truly murky—then “lawlessness” is the correct designation for such a state of affairs.
We should now reevaluate the significance of Dworkin's highlighting of overt theoretical disagreements in hard cases. Let us concede arguendo that the criterial divergences which become exposed in such cases are also present (subterraneously) in easy cases. How damaging to legal positivism is such a concession—if it be a concession? The short answer to this question is that Dworkin's attentiveness to hard cases should be welcomed as salutary rather than resisted as troublesome. His work, set within its proper limits, can serve to refine the insights of positivism rather than to undermine them.
Although some other critics of Dworkin have likewise sought to defuse his antipositivist barrages by accommodating them within positivism, this maneuver has not been sufficiently connected to an emphasis on the routineness of the law's quotidian functioning. Once we apprehend the extent to which the ordinary workings of a legal system must be regularized if the system is to be viable as a regime of law—an extent that varies from system to system but is always considerable—we can see that Dworkin's attack on the Rule of Recognition is untroubling for a Hartian positivist. Criterial divergences among judges and other officials may indeed exist in straightforward cases as well as in difficult cases, but they exist against a background of extensive commonality. The sorts of criterial divergences which Dworkin recounts in his hard cases are important but fairly narrow. For example, when judges disagree over the question whether the ordinary meanings of statutory language or the underlying intentions of a legislature should be deemed decisive, they are hardly disagreeing about the broader question whether the legislature's enactments lay down authoritative standards. Similarly, when judges disagree about the extent to which various considerations of policy can properly be invoked to distinguish precedents, they are hardly disagreeing about the broader question whether precedents that cannot plausibly be distinguished are generally binding.
Of course, the firm agreement on the most wide-ranging criteria comprised in the Rule of Recognition would be hollow if judges continually clashed with one another about the proper applications of those criteria. A consensus on abstract precepts is consistent with chaos at a practical level. However, the chief reason for my drawing attention to the officials’ consensus on the more general standards in the Rule of Recognition is that such a consensus is almost certainly necessary (though not sufficient) for officials’ agreement at the level that matters most: the level of concrete outcomes, the “bottom line.”Footnote 74
Though the regularity that is practically essential for the very existence of a legal system as such does pertain to the rationales for specific decisions, it pertains even more importantly to those decisions themselves. If most jural officials in a regime R disagreed with one another most of the time about the concrete legal implications of people's actions, their responses to those actions would be erratic and chaotic rather than norm-governed. R would not be a regime of law, where behavior is generally subsumed under the regulating and guiding sway of norms.
As has been remarked, Dworkin's attempt to refute Hart's model of the Rule of Recognition is centered on theoretical disagreements in hard cases. Such disagreements, Dworkin presumes, are lurkingly present in easy cases where they fail to surface. We can now see, however, that Dworkin's ruminations on theoretical disagreements do no harm at all to the positivist conception of law. Though criterial divergences may always be present in any jurisdiction, they cannot go beyond the point where they would bring about substantial indeterminacy and erraticism in the law at the level of concrete results. At any rate, they cannot go beyond that point if the officials in any given jurisdiction are to maintain a functional legal system. Widespread though the criterial divergences among the officials may be, the practical impact of those divergences—their tendency to produce a welter of discordant conclusions about the specific jural consequences of people's behavior—must be quite limited. If a legal system is to endure as such, the rivalry among judicial perspectives will be cabined by the need for most officials to agree on the “bottom line” in most circumstances.
Consider a situation in which the unimaginative judges in some jurisdiction maintain that the plain wording of statutes is always dispositive in cases to which the statutes are applicable, while the more imaginative judges maintain that the underlying purposes of the legislature can take priority over the explicit wording of statutes in exceptional cases. Dworkinians would probably claim that the imaginative judges orient themselves toward the deeper intentions of the legislature in routine cases as well as in knotty cases. What gives that claim its credibility is the fact that it does not overlook or gainsay the routineness of the routine cases. It acknowledges that the imaginative and unimaginative judges agree heartily on the appropriate results in easy cases; more precisely, in regard to any such case, it assimilates the specific substance of the legislature's underlying intentions (on which the imaginative judges rely) and the specific substance of ordinary linguistic meanings (on which the unimaginative judges rely). By presuming that the general intentions of the legislature for the implementation of a statute in any straightforward case will center on the normal import of the wording in the statute's provisions, the Dworkinian view accepts that the imaginative judges and unimaginative judges concur firmly with one another in easy cases at the level of the “bottom line.” The criterial divergences that separate the imaginative from the unimaginative do not prevent a judicial consensus on the apposite concrete outcomes of easy cases. Any abiding theoretical disagreements are structured in ways that enable unanimity concerning the disposition of myriad cases. No colorable theory of law could deny as much. Only because the Dworkinians’ approach acknowledges the consensus among judges on the proper outcomes of most actual and credibly possible cases, do Dworkinian claims about the constant presence of criterial divergences enjoy any plausibility.
Theoretical disagreements among judges in any viable legal system are thus circumscribed not only by the most wide-ranging standards in their Rule of Recognition, but also by the pressures for regularity in the detailed effectuation of the law. Moreover, these two forms of circumscription are closely linked. As was remarked above, a state of virtual unanimity among judges and administrative officials on the most general criteria in their Rule of Recognition is almost certainly necessary for a very substantial measure of agreement among them on the concrete applications of the law. Hence, given that a legal system is not sustainable as such unless its officials are indeed in accord with one another to a considerable extent about the law's specific implications, it is likewise not sustainable unless the officials are unanimous or virtually unanimous in their acceptance of the most wide-ranging precepts in their Rule of Recognition. Criterial divergences among officials obtain against the background of the officials’ unanimity or virtual unanimity on the paramount criteria in their Rule of Recognition; and the intensity and range of the divergences will be limited as far as is necessary for the preservation of a large degree of regularity in the day-to-day administration of the law. Such will be true, that is, if the system of governance containing the divergences is to endure as a functional legal system.
Accordingly, Dworkin's alertness to theoretical disagreements in hard cases can be welcomed by legal positivists. On the one hand, his pointing out of such disagreements is undoubtedly salutary, for it serves to counter the notion that the officials who run an operative legal regime must be in harmony with one another about all or nearly all the standards that compose their Rule of Recognition. Within many legal systems, and certainly within the American and English legal systems, there is quite a bit of room for discordance at the criterial level. On the other hand, despite the importance of the criterial divergences (and despite their prominence in law-school casebooks, which consist almost entirely of appellate opinions), they are perfectly compatible with the healthy existence of a Rule of Recognition. So long as the disunity remains within the confines that have been sketched here, it does not impair the vitality of a legal system. Judges who differ with one another about some of the criteria in their Rule of Recognition can and do concur with one another about the most significant criteria therein and about the practical legal consequences of most instances of conduct.
IX. CONCLUSION
Save for some glancing remarks in the final main section, this paper has not grappled directly with Shapiro's Planning Theory of Law. Instead, it has sought to reveal that the Planning Theory is at best superfluous. Though Shapiro endeavors to expose some major weaknesses in Hart's jurisprudential theory, nearly all of his objections are misconceived and are often based on significant misrepresentations of Hart's ideas.Footnote 75 Hart's theory does need some refinements and modifications, but they can be incorporated into his account without any wholesale departures therefrom. When his account is recapitulated accurately, it proves to withstand Shapiro's broadsides. Legality is a thought-provoking book, and its author is a man of admirable perspicacity, but its distortions and unfounded criticisms of Hart's jurisprudential insights are a setback for the philosophy of law.
